


In Sickness...

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Community: 25fluffyfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-26
Updated: 2008-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin starts feeling a tickle in his throat on Wednesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness...

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Five.  
> Written for LJ's 25FluffyFics community.  
> Prompt 09: Blankets

Justin starts feeling a tickle in his throat on Wednesday.

He ignores it. He's got a commission due at the end of the month, and an idea for a large scale work that he's itching to start on. When the tickle persists and his tongue starts to feel like it's being bathed in candle wax, he abandons his brush and darts out into the bright November day for some lozenges. He tells himself that a couple of cherry flavoured Halls are all he needs. He'll be right as rain after that.

On Thursday, he starts to cough. Just a little. He pops more Halls and reminds himself that his head does not feel heavy. Because he's not getting sick. He's definitely not getting sick.

On Friday, Brian arrives in the city.

Justin spends half the morning tidying up his little apartment in Queens. He's gotten used to dirty gym socks on the kitchen table and sketches scattered on every surface in the living room, but Brian is just a tad more fastidious than he is. And when Brian actually consents to spend the weekend in Justin's tiny studio apartment instead of a suite in an upscale hotel where the weekend charge is more than Justin's rent for the month, he at least wants Brian to feel comfortable.

He stops to blow his nose about twenty times, and his eyes are watering, but he's not sick. Not a chance. No way, no how.

When Brian arrives at a little past three o'clock, Justin slams him into the door and greets him with a tongue in his mouth. From the response he gets, he knows that Brian is equally excited to be there.

Justin pulls back long enough to divest Brian of his coat. Brian's hands are already working at the buttons of Justin's jeans.

"Missed you," Justin manages to get out.

Brian mumbles something unintelligible as he pushes him toward the sofa. He leans in close to kiss him again. And Justin coughs.

Brian pulls back, eyes narrowed. "You're sick."

"No, I'm not," Justin says. "Just a tickle in my throat." He loops his hand in Brian's belt buckle and tugs him in.

Brian hesitates for a moment before leaning forward to nip at Justin's lips.

Justin doubles over as a second wave of coughing hits him. His eyes water and the room swims for a moment before settling back into comfortable lines.

"You're sick," Brian says flatly.

"No, I'm not," Justin protests. His legs feel a little weak so he flops down onto the sofa, attempting to make the manoeuvre look like it was planned. He spreads his legs in what he hopes is a seductive pose and cups his erection through his jeans. He sniffles. "I'm fine."

Brian presses his lips together. "You're fine."

Justin swipes at his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Yes."

Brian leans over the sofa, caging Justin between two strong arms. "You're not sick," he says.

Justin struggles to contain the cough that's trying to build in his chest. "No," he strangles out. He manages to turn away before he sneezes. He blinks away the water from his eyes and faces Brian defiantly.

Brian watches him for a long moment. "Come to bed," he finally says, hauling Justin up from his position on the sofa and drawing him into the bedroom.

Justin tries to hide the smug smile on his face, and isn't entirely successful.

Brian lets Justin crawl into bed, then quickly and efficiently strips him of his jeans and T-shirt. Then he tugs up the covers.

The smile on Justin's face fades abruptly. He starts to sit up, and the room spins. "Brian! What--"

"You're sick," Brian says evenly. He lays a hand on Justin's shoulder and easily pushes him back into a prone position, then tucks the blanket in around Justin's slim form. "You're coughing, you're sneezing, you have a runny nose." He feels Justin's forehead. "And you have a fever."

"No," Justin disputes again. "It's just hot out."

"It's November," Brian drawls.

"It's hot in here!" Justin insists. He frees a hand from the bulk of the blankets and reaches for Brian. "Come on," he pleads. "It's been two months! I want you to fuck me."

"I'm going to the store," Brian says, "for supplies. Is there anything you're allergic to that I should know about? Besides the usual shit."

Justin flops back down, defeated. "No," he mumbles. Then he coughs.

"I'll be back."

* * *

When Brian returns to the apartment an hour later, Justin is sleeping.

He walks carefully into the bedroom, depositing his purchases -- cough syrup, lozenges, cold medication, tissue, and a variety of other items that the pharmacist recommended -- on Justin's nightstand. He adjusts the blankets around Justin's body. He tries to be quiet, but Justin stirs anyway.

"Brian?" Justin mumbles.

"I'm back," Brian says.

"Brian," Justin says thickly, "I think I'm sick."

"No shit," Brian says.

Justin sniffs and closes his eyes. "It's not fair."

Brian agrees. But he says nothing about the new toys sitting forlornly in his suitcase. He merely lays a soothing hand on Justin's forehead. Still feverish. "Come on," he says, "let's get some of this shit into you so you can feel better."

* * *

"Brian!"

Brian looks up from his laptop. He hastily saves his work and strides quickly into Justin's room.

"What?"

"I can't reach the tissue," Justin says miserably.

Brian sighs and fetches the box from the nightstand, puts it in Justin's reaching hand.

"Thanks," Justin mumbles as he blows his nose.

* * *

"Brian!"

Brian pulls himself up the sofa, where he's been dozing for the last hour. He pads into Justin's room.

"What?"

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

Brian heads into the kitchen, flips on the light switch and rubs his eyes against the harsh artificial light. He fills a glass with spring water from the fridge and brings it back to the bedroom.

Justin has fallen back asleep.

* * *

"Brian!"

Brian starts awake. He's somehow slumped into an unnatural position -- which is saying something for him -- and his neck is fucking killing him. He rubs at it as he plods into Justin's room.

"What?"

Justin blinks up at him sleepily. "I can't remember."

Brian sighs, closes his eyes, and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry," Justin says pitifully.

"It's okay," Brian says. He adjusts the tangled blankets, then lays a hand on Justin's forehead and is relieved to find that it's cool. "Your fever's gone," he says. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

"Brian."

Brian stirs, opening his eyes groggily. He blinks. The figure standing by the sofa resolves itself into Justin, clutching a blanket around his body.

"Hey," Brian murmurs. "What are you doing up?"

Justin yawns. "I think I'm feeling better."

Brian swings his feet to the floor and stands, presses his hand against Justin's forehead. He's relieved to find that the fever hasn't returned. And Justin's eyes look a little clearer.

Justin coughs.

Brian arches a brow. "So you're feeling better?"

"A _little_ better," Justin corrects. He sniffs. "I'm hungry."

Brian sighs. "Sit," he says, pointing at the sofa. "You can have some toast."

"I want scrambled eggs," Justin whines.

"You can have some toast," Brian repeats firmly.

He fetches coffee for himself, orange juice and toast for Justin. He leans back against the back of the sofa and lets Justin snuggle in the crook of his arm, the blanket still tucked up around his chest and falling onto Brian's legs, covering them both. Justin crunches silently through his toast and sips at his juice, handing plate and glass to Brian wordlessly when he's done.

Justin's eyelids flutter and he fights to keep his eyes open.

"You're tired," Brian says. "Go back to bed."

"No," Justin says. "I want to stay up with you. You came all this way…"

Justin burrows a little closer, letting his head rest on Brian's shoulder. Brian shifts and moves, and Justin nuzzles closer still. His eyes close. He snores in his sleep.

Brian knows his arm is going to be dead weight very shortly, and his neck still hurts from spending the night curled up on a sofa that wasn't made for a man of his height. He knows he should walk Justin back to the bedroom and tuck him in. Knows he should fetch the spare pillow from the closet and stretch out himself.

Instead, he tucks the blanket more comfortably around them, and closes his eyes.


End file.
